


To the End of the World

by pookiestheone



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Kissing, Love, M/M, Orgasm, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:48:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pookiestheone/pseuds/pookiestheone





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Jimmy Kent sat down wearily on the bed, took off his shoes and pushed them underneath it. He stood up again, pulled off his shirt and threw it towards the hamper. Settling down again, he sat back against the wall and stretched out. He was tired. It had been a long day, like all the days at Downton, his feet were aching and his knee was still sore where he had banged it earlier against one of the hall tables. He had muttered "Shit!" under his breath, but the ever-alert Carson had heard and glared at him. Oh well, his day wasn't complete until Carson had glared at him at least once. Usually what Carson did or said didn't bother him, but today it just seemed to be the last straw. It seemed he wasn't cut out for service after all. At least soon he could . . . A knock at the door interrupted.

"Yes?"

The door opened and Thomas Barrow leaned into the room.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course, Mr. Barrow."

Despite his words, Jimmy could feel his jaw tighten. It had been over two years since that night and Jimmy thought it was all water under the bridge. Apparently not. This was the first time Thomas had been in his room since then.

As if sensing this, Thomas came in but left the door ajar behind him. Crossing the room toward the bed, Thomas smiled, "Jimmy, I've said you can call me Thomas when we aren't working."

"I know. It's just a hard habit to break".

Thomas pulled the only chair away from the wall and closer to the bed. But not too close.

"I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday before I went to bed."

Birthday? It was his birthday. Jimmy had completely forgotten.

"And I wanted to give you this."

Thomas reached out a small paper bag and a book.

"Mr. Barr . . . Thomas, you didn't have to do that, but thank you."

"I know, but I couldn't let your birthday go by. Besides it's not much. Some of that soap I saw you looking at in the village and that new novel by Agatha Christie, _Murder on the Links_. I know you like a mystery."

Jimmy opened the bag and lightly sniffed its contents. It was the smell that had caught his attention in the shop, but he couldn't afford to buy it.

"How did you know it was my birthday?"

"I wasn't snooping. Don't you remember? We talked about how old we were and when we were born a while back."

"And you didn't forget?"

"Can't always trust my memory, so I wrote it down."

"I never seem to do that and . . . Damn! Did I miss yours?"

"Don't worry. It's not for a few months."

Jimmy put the bag and the book on his nightstand.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to tell me when it is again."

"I can do that."

Thomas looked at Jimmy more closely.

"Are you all right? You look really tired."

"No more than usual. You know what it can be like working here. It's just that today, Carson really got up my arse."

Jimmy suddenly realised what he had said and blushed bright red.

"Sorry."

To his relief, Thomas just laughed, "Carson gets up everyone's arse."

"I suppose he does. Part of the job I guess. Though it made me think that maybe I should be doing something else."

In the dim light, Jimmy thought he saw a shadow flicker across Thomas' eyes.

"Really? What?"

"I don't know. Just something different." Jimmy sighed. "Maybe there's nothing else I can do. Wishful thinking I guess."

"Well," Thomas said as he stood up, "I think that we'll have to see if we can do something about that. But for now, we both need to get some sleep. Goodnight."

" 'Night, Thomas."

Thomas left, closing the door behind him. Jimmy reached over and picked up the bag of soap, smelling it once again. That was nice of Thomas. He wondered if Thomas could have guessed that he hadn't had a birthday gift in years; not since he left home to go into service, long before his mother had died. It was surprising how he now realised that he missed those little things. He also realised that having Thomas in his room hadn't been as bad as he feared it might be. Thomas seemed to understand there were boundaries that he wasn't ready to cross. Thomas had become a friend, someone he could talk to, but not yet someone he could really confide in. It was nice, though, to have someone to ease the loneliness.

Jimmy got up, pulled off his pants and hung them carefully in the wardrobe. He scooped his shirt off the floor and tossed it into the hamper. Shivering slightly, he climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up around his chin. Despite his tiredness, he couldn't get to sleep.

He caught himself wondering what might have happened that night if Alfred hadn't come in. What if Thomas had wakened him rather than surprising him with the kiss? Would he have let anything happen? Would he now? After all it wouldn't be the first time.

He knew what Thomas was from the minute they met and he was afraid Thomas saw the same in him. He couldn't take the chance. Life had taught him that taking chances only ended in disaster and he couldn't go through that again. So he let it get out of control. The whole thing became like a boulder rolling down a hill and the only way to stop it was to throw himself in front of it. He was now ashamed to admit that he knew that was never going to happen.

He had to pretend that he was uncomfortable with the familiarity, the touching, hoping that Thomas would pick up on it and back away. When that didn't work, he had to let other people know how he supposedly felt. Then he thought about what he had put Thomas through because of that, the lies that had almost cost him his job and sent him to prison. After all, he knew what O'Brien was doing, but he went along. If he hadn't, knowing the vindictive bitch that she was, she would have spread rumours; rumours she would make sure everyone believed. He wasn't sure why he just hadn't told Thomas to leave him alone. That would have been easy and it would have worked, but foolishly, he never seemed to choose the easy way to do things. And he had to admit that he did like the attention no matter the consequences.

He was too afraid to tell Thomas the truth; too afraid his secret would get out if he did. Looking back, he knew that was stupid. He maybe could have trusted him, but Thomas's reputation among the other staff made him unsure. He couldn't chance having someone knowing, someone who might use the knowledge for his own purpose. So he just let it all happen, no matter what the harm. But even he thought his fake outrage demanding that Thomas be let go without a good reference went too far. Still, it didn't stop him. He had to protect himself. As he had told Thomas earlier, some habits are hard to break.

The beating. He most regretted the beating. But even afterwards, when Thomas was safe, he still had to keep him at arm's length. First faking disdain and then saying being friends was all he could manage. All part of the act, all part of the lying. Lying was a way of life; his way of life. No one would understand that better than Thomas. But understanding and forgiving were two different things.

Just as he was finally drifting off, he thought, "Shit! I really am a coward. I really fucked this up."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

As Thomas walked to his room, he began to frown. Jimmy wasn't happy. That couldn'�t be good. Still he knew he appreciated the presents, not by just his words but by his smile. He realised that hadn't seen that smile very often recently.

He was reaching for the door handle when Carson came around the corner.

"Are you still up?"

"Yes, Mr Carson. Just going in now."

"And the others?"

"I think everyone is in bed."

"Good."

He turned to go but stopped and turned back.

"Where were you coming from?"

Christ! Here we go again.

"I just went to wish Jimmy a happy birthday."

"That was all? I do not want a repeat, you know."

"Nor do I, Mr. Carson. " Meanwhile he was thinking, "What type of bloody fool do you think I am, you old twat."

"Fine, then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mr. Carson."

Thomas opened the door into his room, almost slammed it behind him, and looked around for something to throw. He crossed to the washstand and picked up the pitcher. It was tempting, but he knew he wouldn't be able to explain pieces of it at the other side of the room so he just poured some water into the washbowl. He stood staring down at it. This is the way it had been for the last two years. While he still had his job, in fact much to his surprise a better one, all had neither been forgiven nor forgotten. He had seen the way Carson looked at him. When he first found out, he had called him foul and it was obvious that opinion hadn't changed. Alfred seemed to have moved on and Jimmy . . . well, Jimmy was now his friend. Not what he had hoped for, but he would take what he could get. But Carson was another matter. He sighed. There wasn't much he could do about it.

He pulled his shirt off over his head and bent down to splash some water on his face. When he raised his head he looked at his reflection in the mirror. The scars from the beating had all but disappeared, except for the one just beneath his lower lip. It wasn't that noticeable, but he could still see and feel it. He ran his finger over it. His badge of honour. He laughed to himself. While he liked the sound of that, he had done precious little honourable in his life. More like a souvenir of his foolishness, because falling for Jimmy and hoping that he felt the same had been foolish. He didn't regret intervening in the beating, but any time he needed a reminder to be careful, he just rubbed that scar.

He quickly toweled the water from his face and headed for the bed. Reaching underneath he pulled out a box and hoisted it onto the bed. From around his neck he lifted a silver chain with a key. His experience with the Duke of Crowborough's letters had taught him that if he wanted to keep something safe, away from prying eyes, then it needed to be locked. Not that he really had much to hide or protect.

Opening the box he lifted out a journal. He had started keeping one after the war. Sometimes he would go a couple of months without writing anything, but despite that he had filled one and was half way through another. The only other things in the box were his mother's locket - its chain was the one around his neck, a few pound notes, some old letters from home, a small photograph of his parents, and one of Jimmy's handkerchiefs. The thought crossed his mind that it wasn't much to show for a man who was nearly thirty. He probably shouldn't have kept the handkerchief; it was inane and sentimental. But somehow he found it comforting. Jimmy never missed it and even if someone else ever saw it there was no way to tell whose it was.

He knew he should sleep - 5:30 came quickly, too quickly if you didn't go to bed until after midnight � but he wanted to spend some time thinking about what had happened in Jimmy's room. Sitting down in the armchair beside his bed, he opened the journal. He had planned what to do tonight, not down to the last detail of course, but looking over what he had written he was pleased. Things had gone well. There was no ulterior motive to his plan; he was just afraid he would make a cock-up of it all. No matter how their friendship had grown, Jimmy's room was the symbol of what first went wrong and by his being there he felt he risked reminding Jimmy of that. So he had been careful.

Thomas yawned and stretched. It still bothered him that Jimmy wasn't happy, but was he unhappy enough to want to leave. He didn't think he could stand it if that were to happen. He wished they could spend more time together. If they did he knew he would be able to find out what was bothering him. Talking after meals and sometimes late at night wasn't enough. They did manage to go into the village together last month, but an under butler and a first footman seldom could be away at the same time. Particularly at Downton where that would really leave only Carson and Alfred. He quickly shook his head. Get a hold of yourself, Thomas. You know how to plot and plan. Think of something.

He stretched again and stood up. He didn't feel like writing anything tonight after all so he put the journal back in the box, locked it and shoved it under the bed. He pulled his suspenders off his shoulders letting his pants slip to the floor before picking them up and putting them away.

Climbing into bed, he considered that there was another village fair in a week's time. Maybe he could finally convince Carson that the servants should have another outing. He had been hinting at it for the last few months, but it still might be tough. He had already gotten Mrs. Hughes to work on him though. Tom Branson was always sympathetic and Tom might be able to get Robert Crawley on side. Thomas knew that Carson wouldn't turn down a request from "His Lordship" and he also knew that Robert Crawley could manipulate with the best of them if he wanted. Cora Crawley and her daughters would be in London, the babies were looked after, so there would only be Robert and Tom Branson to worry about. Carson could manage that for an afternoon. Maybe he could sell it as helping to make the house run better if the servants were happy. It would be good for morale. Bullshit, but still it might work. Carson didn't care about their happiness, but the others might if he went about it the right way. Everything was all about efficiency now and he knew that was his in.

Imagine. An entire afternoon with Jimmy. Everyone else would be there of course and Alfred would be sure to want to tag along with them, but Alfred still had a crush on Ivy and he could use that to his advantage. With Alfred out of the way, off mooning after Ivy, he and Jimmy would have time to themselves. He had seen what a few drinks did to him. Although they brought out his belligerent side, and that worried him, he would be buying since Jimmy never seemed to have any money so he could control how much he drank. He also didn't want anyone to be able to say he got him drunk. That wasn't his purpose nor was it something he would do to Jimmy. Just enough to make him talkative. Not that Jimmy was ever tongue-tied; it was just that he didn't necessarily talk about what mattered. That boy was still a bit of a closed book.

Thomas rolled onto his side and turned off the light. All in all and despite some worries, it had been a good night and with any luck by this time next week he would know what was really bothering Jimmy.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

It had been raining for a solid week, but the night before the fair it stopped and in the morning there wasn't a cloud in the sky. By afternoon everything had dried and the weather wasn't just warm, it was hot. Thomas and Jimmy wandered the grounds stopping to play some games and even ride the merry-go-round like a couple of kids.

"Where's Alfred?" Jimmy asked.

"Off pursuing the fair maiden Ivy."

"Off pursuing a lost cause more like."

Thomas nodded. He knew what that felt like.

"Do you want something to eat?"

"Yes, but only if I can pay. You've already bought me two drinks."

"By all means. How about something from that cheese stall."

They picked out two pieces of Wensleydale which fortunately came wrapped in butcher's paper since the hot weather had made it sticky.

"Have you ever thought of working for yourself and not someone else?" Jimmy asked between bites as they walked away from the stall.

"I tried that but it didn't turn out the way I expected."

"I meant honest work."

It was a fair comment. Thomas guessed that he knew about his black market misadventure.

"At one time. Do you want a drink?"

Good way to change the subject, Jimmy thought.

"I don't think I should have any more."

"No, I meant just a bottle of pop. We'll need something to wash this down with."

"Oh. Sure."

As they settled under the near-deserted tent with their bottles, Jimmy returned to his question.

"So, what did you think of doing."

"Well, you know that my father was a clockmaker. I used to be around the shop all the time; he even taught me some of the easy work. Then when I left school, I became his apprentice for two years. I was good at it and I could have eventually taken over. He made a good living at it. We weren't rich but we were comfortable. I probably would have done just fine."

"Why didn't you go on?"

Thomas wasn't ready to share that.

"I was young. I wanted something different. I thought I could do better."

"And now?"

"Do you mean would I do things differently?"

Jimmy nodded.

"Sometimes I think about that. Perhaps I would be happier tucked away in a shop, tinkering with clocks. It's surprising how time can change how you look at things. But what's the point, Jimmy? The past is past. You can't go back and undo something that's already happened."

Jimmy knew he wasn't talking about clock making.

Thomas had been leaning forward in his chair, but now pushed himself back. This wasn't going the way he had planned. He was supposed to be the one asking the questions, not Jimmy. What was it about him that made him want to tell him things? He took a sip of his pop. He really should learn to keep his damn mouth shut around him.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to."

"No, no," Thomas laughed. "You just got me thinking."

Shit! Couldn't he learn to take his own advice.

"What about you? Have you always wanted to be in service?"

"Wanted? No. But I didn't have to many options and as it turned out I'm pretty good at it."

"But you're not happy right now."

Jimmy appeared to think before answering.

"No, I guess not. Look, Thomas, I'm twenty-five and I'm a first footman. Where am I going to go from here? Not very far at Downton anyway."

"Oh, I don't know. Carson will eventually die . . ."

"Thomas!"

"I didn't say I wanted him to die, but unless you know something I don't it will happen."

"All the same."

"All right. Carson will move on. Better?"

"Hardly."

"Carson will move on and I'll become butler."

"Only if you keep your nose clean."

"Yes, yes. Now shut up and let me finish. As first footman you'll become under butler. Only if you keep your nose clean, of course."

"So that's it? Thirty years from now you're still here. That's Thomas Barrow's big plan?"

Thomas noted that he didn't say we.

"Listen Jimmy. I've planned big all my life. I've schemed and cheated to get what I wanted, what I thought I deserved. It didn't get me very far did it? Maybe all I can do is kiss Carson's arse, haul things around, and kowtow to my 'betters'."

It was Jimmy's turn to lean back in his chair.

"I never thought I'd hear you accept defeat."

"You say defeat, I say reality. Sometimes they're different sides of the same coin."

Thomas looked up and noticed the shadows were lengthening.

"We should think about heading back to Downton."

"Doesn't the fair go until dusk? I don't know what got into him, but Carson said we didn't have to be back until 10, so why rush."

"Are you sure you want to be seen with a defeatist?"

"Couldn't think of anyone better to be seen with."

"All right, then we have time for at least one real drink before we stumble home."

"Agreed, but I have to buy this time."

"No, it was my idea. If you'll get them, I'll pay."

As Jimmy went off to get the drinks, Thomas mulled over what had been said. Once again his big mouth had opened and he just said whatever came into his mind. All his planning and caution seemed to fly out the window. He was going to start calling this the "Jimmy effect" and look for a cure. Jimmy now knew more about him than anyone else and yet he was still pretty much in the dark about Jimmy.

He refused to admit it to Jimmy, but it was defeat. Once he had said he had been well and truly beaten. Thanks to Bates that hadn't been the case, but now he felt differently. He wasn't out on the streets though and while the best he could expect was being a butler he had resigned himself to that. Having Jimmy around made that bearable, but what if he left? He could tell from his reaction that the future Thomas had described wasn't his future. Resigning himself to the life he had depicted was one thing, but living it without Jimmy, without his only friend, seemed inconceivable.

Standing in line waiting for the drinks, Jimmy wondered if he had gone too far. It hadn't been his intention, the questions just seemed to lead that way. He didn't like what Thomas had said about his limitations and he didn't like the sadness he tried to hide. Of course, he knew that it all stemmed from what had happened two years ago. As Thomas had said, he couldn't change the past, but he damn well could try to change the future.

Over the last week Jimmy had spent a lot of time thinking about whether or not he wanted something to happen between them. In fact he had thought about little else. He knew the answer now was yes and that today had really been all about that - finding out more about Thomas, trying to determine if he still had any feelings for him. Although his questions had uncovered a lot of things, that wasn't one of them. If he did, he hid it well.

All the same, it was time to take a chance. He couldn't go on like this. Thomas was wrong, he wasn't unhappy because of work. There was more going on, things that had nothing to do with Downton, but if he wanted to believe that what was one more lie when there was a bigger one to deal with. He was tired of being alone and scared. Friendship was one thing, but he needed someone who could give him more than that. He almost couldn't remember the last time someone had held him or made love to him and if he didn't do something soon he was terrified it would never happen again. For years he had pushed it all away, convincing himself that it didn't matter, reaching a point where by the time Thomas entered his life he was buried so deep he didn't know how to set himself free. He didn't want to set himself free. But all the time he was dying inside, losing himself day by day, until there wasn't much left.

As he neared the tent he could see that Thomas was deep in thought. His brow was furrowed and he was absentmindedly rubbing the scar under his lip. Jimmy wondered if he had waited too long to tell him how he really felt - that he wasn't disgusted, just afraid, nothing more than a coward. It was just that until this week he still hadn't been able to do anything. It had taken him that long to dig himself out. He had a tough time explaining it to himself, how could he expect Thomas to understand. Thomas knew what it was to have a secret, to have the same secret. But would that be enough?

Had his fear and all the time that had passed made it impossible? Even if he did tell him, would Thomas believe and forgive him? Forgiveness. It all seemed to hinge on that. If it were him, he wasn't sure he could; he would just feel betrayed and deceived. His accuser, the man who almost ruined his life, who then became his friend and who would now become his . . . Become his what exactly? What did he now expect would happen between them in a place like Downton where privacy was an illusion, walls were paper thin, and eyes and ears were everywhere. No, Downton wasn't where they should be, but they would manage. They would have to sneak and hide and pretend; something they were both good at. It would do for now, but that was part of their future he intended to change. Assuming they had a future.

He set the drinks down on the table. It was going to be a day to deal with secrets. Not all of them, but it would be a start.

"A penny for your thoughts."

"I was wondering where the hell you were with the drinks."


	4. Chapter 4

The road back to Downton was darker and rougher than they remembered. It was a good thing that there was a full moon that allowed them to see some of the bumps, but it still didn't stop the two of them from stumbling into one another all the time. Of course the last two drinks Jimmy had bought them didn't help either.

"Thomas, what time is it?"

"About five minutes later than the last time you asked. Probably a quarter past nine."

"Oh shit! Carson will have a conniption if we're late."

"That's true, but we aren't late yet. It's not that much further.

"And we're drunk to boot."

"Also true. And we have to work tomorrow. Won't that be fun."

Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"I told you we shouldn't have stopped in the pub. Give me your coat. Nothing worse than puke on a coat. I've had to clean it off other people's often enough."

He threw Jimmy's coat over a tree branch.

"I have to take a piss. Watch you don't fall into the hedgerow."

As he unbuttoned his trousers he could hear Jimmy retching from the other side of the road.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, just perfect. You?"

"I will be in a minute or two."

Liquid in, liquid out. At this point liquid out felt so much better.

He walked back to Jimmy buttoning his fly and found him still bent over at the side of the road.

"Feeling better?"

"I think it was the cheese."

"Of course it was."

Jimmy straightened up and sat down on a stump.

"I need to rest for a minute."

Thomas pulled out his pocket watch and held it up to the moonlight so he could see.

"We still have more than half an hour. Here, don't forget this."

He reached up to the branch and threw Jimmy his coat.

"Do we have time to talk?"

Despite all his best intentions, it seemed it took a lot of Dutch courage for anything to happen.

"God, Jimmy, haven't we talked enough for one day?"

As he watched Jimmy shoulders slump, he couldn't believe he had said that.

"Sorry. Of course we can."

"I wanted to ask you about the night in my bedroom."

"Last week on your birthday? What about it?"

"No. The night you kissed me."

Thomas felt his knees buckle and he reached out to grab Jimmy's shoulder so he wouldn't fall.

"Oh no. Let's. . . Let's not talk about that now."

"Why?"

"It's late. We're drunk. I don't want to. I don't want you to start hating me all over again. How many reasons do you need?"

Jimmy reached up and put his hand on Thomas's.

"I won't hate you."

Thomas pulled his hand away and stepped back. What the hell was going on?

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to tell you something."

"Oh no you're not. You're trying to fuck with me."

"Listen . . ."

Jimmy stood up and reached out to grab his arm, but Thomas stepped back.

"No. You listen. Today was great. I thought we were friends having a good time, but this isn't right. After all this time you want to know about that night. You want me to spill my guts. So you can know what? How it feels to be made a fool? How it feels to have your only hope crushed? How it feels to fall in love and have that love torn from you. What is wrong with you?"

He repeated his last few words, but this time Jimmy could barely hear them.

"What is wrong with you?"

Jimmy sat down again.

"No, none of that. I wanted to say I was sorry."

Thomas reached for his handkerchief and swiped at his nose.

"Why would you be sorry? I'm the one who should have apologised. I just didn't know how. You seemed upset and angry for so long that I thought if I tried it would only make matters worse."

"That's part of what I'm sorry for. It wasn't fair to do that, to make you feel you were all in the wrong, when I really wanted . . ."

He didn't go on.

"When you really wanted what?"

Jimmy just looked at him and shrugged, unable to say the words. When it came down to turning his intentions into reality, he realised he was still a coward. In the moonlight he could see the puzzled look on Thomas's face, then watched as it turned to anger as realisation hit home. When he finally spoke it was through gritted teeth.

"You put me through all that for nothing. So you could protect this sorry, meaningless, life of yours. You pathetic little fuck!"

Jimmy tried to get up to avoid his fist, but the punch caught him squarely in the chest, knocking him over the stump, laying him flat on his back gasping for breath. Thomas leaned over, grabbed him by the collar and jerked him to his feet, forcing him onto his toes.

"Don't, Thomas. Don't. I can't breathe."

Despite that, Jimmy didn't struggle; he just flinched as Thomas drew back his fist. He wanted to beat him to a pulp, but there was something about the look on Jimmy's face that made him stop. He let him go and Jimmy staggered back, coughing as he sagged to the ground. Thomas stalked off, but had only gone a few steps when he turned. This time his voice was calm.

"Why would you do that?"

Jimmy took a deep breath before replying.

"You said it. To protect my sorry, meaningless, life. Why else."

"And you didn't care about anyone else. About what it would do to them?"

Unexpectedly Jimmy shot back.

"As if you ever did."

That caught Thomas off guard. Jimmy was right of course. It seemed he had finally gotten a taste of his own bitter medicine.

"I thought you of all people might understand what I was going through."

"Oh I understand all right. You took your time. Two years. Two years before you had the courage to admit what an arsehole you are. Did you enjoy it? Watching me squirm. Laughing at me."

"No. I never meant to hurt you. It got out of hand. It took me two years to admit to myself that I want you, that if you had given me a proper chance rather than ambushing me I would have wanted you even then."

Thomas didn't miss the significance of what he had said, but ignored it for now.

"So it is my fault after all."

"Yes. No. I don't mean like that."

Jimmy was on the verge of tears. He pounded the ground in frustration.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Thomas stared at him. He started to speak, but thought better of it. He shook his head to clear it.

"Get up. I don't know how to deal with this now. We need to get back to Downton so Carson doesn't catch us coming in late."

Jimmy climbed to his feet and grabbed his coat off the ground.

"You look like shit. You better think of some way to explain that if anyone sees you and it better not be my fault."

"It won't be. The road's rough, it was dark, I was drunk. You just picked me up and dusted me off.

They didn't say another word the rest of the way. They reached Downton before ten and as luck would have it there was no one about. They climbed the stairs in silence. As Jimmy was entering his room, Thomas pulled him back and whispered.

"This isn't over. I can be a good friend, Jimmy, but I can also be a dangerous enemy. Right now I don't know where this leaves us, but this is far from over."

"I'm sorry," Jimmy mumbled miserably.

Thomas shoved him through the door and walked away. When he got to his room he threw himself into the chair, buried his head in his hands and began to sob quietly. He was angry at letting himself be deceived and hurt, but he was crying because it was Jimmy who had done it. Finally he wiped his eyes on his coat sleeve, leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. Funny how he always managed to fuck up his life.


	5. Chapter 5

When Thomas woke the next morning just after dawn he was lying on his bed fully clothed. It took him a few seconds to remember how that had happened. He rolled onto his back and groaned. At least it was Sunday and there were still only two upstairs. Surprisingly he only had a slight headache, but as he cupped his hand around his mouth to smell his breath he knew that was another matter. Cleaning his teeth as best he could and using peppermints would help, but he had better try to stay away from as many people as he could. Carson would know, of course; Carson knew everything. He might get a dressing down, but he also knew Carson wouldn't want him embarrassing the family by being too close to any of them. Wait until he found out Jimmy was in no better condition.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The cold, hard light of day. He remembered his father saying that only too well. So just what would the cold, hard light of this day bring. He was still angry with Jimmy, but at least he no longer wanted to beat the shit out of him. Beneath all the turmoil and anguish of last night and despite what he had felt and said, he understood what had happened to Jimmy. But he wasn't sure if understanding was enough to begin to ease the pain. Maybe that's what the day would hold in store.

Thomas got up and stripped. He washed, shaved, and did what he could about his breath before putting on clean underwear and his uniform. Looking in the mirror, he decided he was presentable, outwardly only his bloodshot eyes gave him away. Before going downstairs he put his ear to Jimmy's door and heard movement. He knocked but opened the door without waiting for a reply.

"Are you almost ready?"

Jimmy looked up from the chair. Thomas had to admit he didn't look all the worse for wear.

"Yes. I just need my shoes and jacket."

"Good. I want you downstairs in five minutes. We won't be that busy today, but don't let me catch you trying to get out of what work there is."

"You won't. Thomas ..."

"It's Mr. Barrow."

Jimmy looked down at his feet and spoke more to himself than to Thomas.

"Yes, of course. Mr. Barrow."

When he looked up again he was gone.

As Thomas approached the stairs, Alfred came out of his room.

"Good morning, Mr Barrow. Did you have a good time at the fair?"

He almost burst out laughing.

"It was quite the day, Alfred."

Jimmy sat and stared at the open door. The rest of his night before he fell asleep had been no better than Thomas's. He was so upset with himself he almost wished that Thomas had given him a beating. At least the physical pain might have for a time masked the emotional one. He had misjudged how angry Thomas would be. Foolishly he had imagined that they would be able to talk it through. But if he hadn't the courage to be able to tell why it had happened, then how could he have expected Thomas to react differently. He had sat on that stump like a lump of coal. Now it was probably too late to repair the damage. He felt like a dam had broken and he needed Thomas to hold him, kiss him and say he understood, but he doubted that would ever happen now. He wiped the tears away and looked around for his shoes. He put them on, grabbed his jacket and pulled it on as he started down the stairs. Soon he might not have . . . He met Thomas waiting for him at the bottom.

"Jesus, Jimmy, you smell."

Jimmy blushed.

"Here, take some of these peppermints. Maybe they'll help"

"Thank you, Mr. Barrow."

"Start in the breakfast room, then see if there are any glasses lying around."

They worked until it was time for their own breakfast, but didn't cross paths.

Charles Carson looked around the table. He couldn't help but notice that both Thomas and James were sweating and pale. It was warm, but not that warm. He suspected that the weather had nothing to do with it. Both of them had been doing well for the last year or so, although he wasn't going to tell them that. After all, that's what was expected of them. Still, they at least were two he hadn't had to worry about. He was willing to give them some leeway because of that, but he didn't want them to think he was getting too lenient. They needed to know he was watching.

"Thomas."

"Yes, Mr. Carson."

"I would like to see you and James after breakfast."

"Yes, Mr. Carson."

Thomas looked at Jimmy and nodded. He was sure he understood that they had to talk before they went to see him. As they left the table, Thomas motioned Jimmy into the hallway.

"Let me do the talking. He'll probably only ask me anyway. Just look like you agree with what I'm saying and keep your mouth shut."

"Yes Mr. Barrow."

Carson was waiting for them.

"Close the door, please."

He looked them both up and down, then spoke to Thomas.

"Did you enjoy the fair."

"Yes, Mr Carson," they replied almost in unison.

They stood close enough together so that Thomas could nudge Jimmy with his foot. What part of shut up didn't he get?

Carson continued as he raised his head at them slightly and sniffed.

"Perhaps too much. James is young, but I thought you would know better, Thomas, and that you would keep him out of trouble."

He's not that young Thomas thought to himself.

"There was no trouble, Mr Carson, just a bit too much to drink. And you're correct, it was my fault. We were having such a good time that I let things get carried away."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Jimmy was going to speak again. It was like trying to train a puppy. He hurried on before he could open his big mouth.

"We were home on time and we're working today, so I don't think there was too much harm."

Carson nodded.

"Yes, except for the smell of alcohol about you both. Thomas, you should know that peppermint really does not work well."

He thought for a moment.

"Fine. I will not say I am happy and there may be no more fairs in the future, but I think we will manage. Just see you do not make a habit of this. Fortunately both His Lordship and Mr. Branson will be away all day and have told me they will not return for dinner. Alfred will see to anything they need before they leave. So only the rest of the staff will have to suffer your presence. Try not to make it too unpleasant for them."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson."

Closing the door behind him, Jimmy followed Thomas into the hall. They moved to where there was no one about before Thomas spoke.

"That wasn't as bad as it could have been. Maybe he's mellowing in his old age."

He didn't really believe that.

"Why is it you don't listen to me? I said keep quiet and you seemed hell bent on talking anyway."

"Why did you take the blame?"

"Because he was going to blame me anyhow. Carson looks at life the way he looks at the servants in this house. Everyone has his own place; those who are above others are responsible for them. Here, among other things, I'm responsible for you and Alfred. If you make a mistake, it's my mistake because I wasn't watchful. To him, life is the same. Just because we weren't here didn't change that. Did you think there was another reason?"

"I didn't know."

"Don't flatter yourself Jimmy. Right now I couldn't care less about your lying arse."

Both of them knew that wasn't entirely true. If it were then Jimmy would have been to blame no matter how Carson viewed the world.

"Back to work."

As Thomas had predicted, the day wasn't busy. With no one upstairs, Jimmy and Alfred spent their time moving some of the heavy furniture for the maids, but did little else. Thomas pitched in a few times, but he really wasn't needed. Even Carson couldn't seem to find extra work for any of them. That meant that Thomas was able to get outside more than a few times for a cigarette. It also meant that he had time to think.

He had told Jimmy that what had happened last night wasn't over, but now he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. The old Thomas would have made sure that Jimmy paid and would have had him fired in no time. He wasn't entirely reformed, but it seemed that his friendship with Jimmy had changed him more than he wanted to admit. He had learned that you made allowances for a friend's mistakes, but what Jimmy had done was more than a mistake.

At first he thought it was calculated malevolence, but when he looked at the things he himself had done he knew that wasn't so. The explanation was in what Jimmy had said: he never meant to hurt him. He believed that. Thomas knew only too well what keeping a secret like theirs could do. How it warped your perceptions and helped to shape your behaviour. As far as he was concerned the problem wasn't what you were keeping secret, but what you had to go through to keep it hidden. In the end, he wasn't sure he could judge Jimmy, but at the same time he wasn't entirely sure he was ready to forgive him either. Time had given him some perspective more quickly than he thought possible this morning, but he would have to see how he felt when the day was over

With more spare time than usual, Jimmy saw Thomas a fair amount during the day. He noticed he spent time outdoors rather than at the servants' table when he wasn't busy. If it hadn't been for yesterday, they would have been together. Anna had said they had become joined at the hip. He hated what he had done, but Thomas probably wouldn't even allow him to try to explain again. Hell, given the way he had handled it last night, he wasn't sure he wanted to try. Better to just let things go and wait to see what Thomas had planned for him. He was surprised and suspicious when after dinner Thomas pulled him aside.

"Come to my room before you go to bed."


	6. Chapter 6

Robert Crawley and Tom Branson returned about nine. Jimmy waited to see if Alfred need any help, but carefully avoided getting too close to either of them just in case. Afterwards, as he was having a cup of tea in the servants' hall, he noticed that Thomas was nowhere to be seen. When Jimmy finally went up to his room it was shortly after ten. He assumed Thomas would be already waiting for him. He removed his jacket and took off his tie, then sat for a moment. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he knew he couldn't avoid going to see him. As he stood in front of the door he braced himself, then knocked.

"Come in."

Thomas was sitting on his bed fiddling with a key on a chain.

"Close the door."

"Is that wise? We both know Carson . . ."

"Close the door, Jimmy. If he's rude enough to walk in without knocking he won't see anything other than two friends talking."

"So, we're still friends?"

Right to the point. Too bad he hadn't done that last night.

Thomas shook his head and reached up to put the chain around his neck.

"Friends. Maybe."

"That's a change."

"Let me finish. Maybe but that's going to depend on what happens next."

"I'll take that chance."

Thomas looked at him intently for a moment.

"I had a lot of time to think today. To cool down and to try to sort out what I know and what I think I know. As it turns out, I don't know very much, but I can imagine a lot and that's not good. I thought you were a little shit, springing that on me out of nowhere. Making me guess. For someone who most times seems incapable of keeping his mouth shut, you managed very well last night."

"I know. It's just that I . . ."

Thomas pointed to the armchair.

"Wait. Sit down. Then I realised that there was no good way of doing it; you had held back too much for too long. No matter how you had tried, I still would have felt betrayed and hurt that you rejected me so brutally and then waited two years to tell me I wasn't wrong in the first place. I need to hear it from the beginning. I've been filling in too many blanks on my own. I need you to tell me everything."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Isn't that what you want? You said you didn't mean to hurt me even though you did. I believe you now, but I have to understand for sure why it happened and only you can tell me."

Jimmy started from before he came to Downton, from even before the war. It all poured out. The fear, the hurt, the humiliation, the loss, the hopelessness. The more he talked, the more Thomas saw himself. Their lives had been different, but the result had been the same. Hollow men who tried to bury whatever feelings they had. They both desperately wanted to find someone to fill the emptiness, but any chance always seemed to escape them or was doomed to failure.

After about an hour Jimmy was sobbing as he finished. Thomas got up and sat on the arm of the chair, pulling him close, and held him until stopped.

"Jimmy, look at me."

He cupped his chin, lifting his face, then bent to kiss him. This time there was no surprise, no resistance. Jimmy put his arm around his neck and pulled him in like a man finally able to quench his thirst. His hand reached for Thomas's waistband, undoing the button and fumbling with the ones on his fly. Thomas pulled his hand away.

"No, not now."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"This isn't the time. You're worn out and not really in control of yourself. I don't want to take advantage of that. I want you to be sure."

"Can I at least sleep here tonight?"

"Oh Jimmy, there's nothing I would like better, but we both know that can't happen."

Jimmy looked disheartened as he got up from the chair to leave. As he reached the door Thomas came up behind him and kissed his neck. With a sigh, he leaned his head back so their cheeks touched. Thomas drew away and whispered against his ear.

"Soon though."

Jimmy slept fitfully, waking in the middle of the night to stare at the ceiling, thinking about what had happened. In the distance he heard one of the clocks strike three. Finally he got up and slipped out of his room, stealing down the hall, avoiding as best he could its squeaky floorboards. He eased open Thomas's door, grimacing as it creaked, and whispered into the darkness.

"Are you awake."

"Yes."

Jimmy came in and closed the door quietly behind him. When Thomas turned on the light Jimmy noticed he wasn't wearing an undershirt. He pulled off his own and dropped his bottoms to the ground, stepping out of them. The light reflecting off the paleness of his skin made it glimmer and the sight of his naked body took Thomas's breath away.

He warned half-heartedly.

"You shouldn't be here. Are you sure?"

"I don't think I should be anywhere else."

Thomas rolled onto his side and shifted over, letting him slid into the narrow bed beside him. As he kissed him Jimmy slid his hand down his chest and realised he wasn't wearing anything at all.

"You knew. You were expecting me, weren't you?"

"I hoped you would, but it had to be in your own time not just in the heat of the moment. If it wasn't tonight, then when you were ready. I was prepared to wait."

Thomas rolled him onto his back, pressing their bodies together, kissing him, licking his lips open. Maybe as he feared it was too soon, but they had both waited so long.

Thomas rose to his knees, spreading Jimmy's legs, and began to play with his cock as it lay on his belly, running his finger under the foreskin, circling the head, making him stiffen. He slipped his other hand between his legs and teased his hole, repeatedly pushing against it and releasing. Jimmy shuddered. He wet a finger, listening to him moan softly as the tip of it slid in. He could see Jimmy's cock throbbing against his stomach, the stickiness of its head clinging to the fine dusting of hair.

"Thomas, it's been a long time . . ."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, just go easy. I don't think I can take you."

"I would never hurt you."

He slid his finger deeper until he felt what he was looking for and began to massage. Jimmy jerked up, reaching to grab Thomas by the back of the neck. A loud whimper escaped him.

"Shh. Lie down, lie down."

He kept massaging as he kissed his ears and neck, working his way down his nipples, chest and belly, finally wrapping his lips around his cock, teasing its head with his tongue. His own grew harder as he heard Jimmy moan. He eased his finger out and began to play with his balls, gently pulling and twisting them. With his free hand he covered Jimmy's mouth to muffle his groans. He could feel him tense and his cock pulse as he trailed his finger back and forth along the ridge between his balls and hole. As he felt the first spurt hit the back of his tongue, he released his cock and stroked him slowly, watching him heave and writhe as he coated his stomach.

When he had finished, Thomas lay on top of him sliding his cock back and forth in the slickness as Jimmy wrapped his legs around him, stroking his back, holding him tightly. Their lips met again and Jimmy forced his mouth open with his tongue, plunging it deep inside. He felt rather than heard Thomas climax. His muscles strained and his cock jumped repeatedly as the warmth flooded between them.

Finally Thomas rolled off and lay dazed as Jimmy held him, spooning his hip.

"We can't risk falling asleep. You know you're going to have to go."

Jimmy held him for a few moments longer, reluctantly letting go and kissing him as he got up from the bed. He used water from the pitcher to clean himself as best he could, then dressed and went to the door.

"Be sure no one's out there. We weren't exactly quiet."

"I don't hear anything."

He opened the door, but instead of leaving came back to touch Thomas's cheek and whisper in his ear.

"It's so unfair when all I want is to stay here."

He was gone before Thomas could reply.

The next morning they met at the stairs. Jimmy stopped to let him pass, but as he did their hands brushed against one another and he caught the palm of Thomas's hand with the tips of his fingers. Thomas let the touch linger for a few seconds, then smiled at him before moving on.


	7. Chapter 7

Despite being happier than he ever remembered, Thomas still worried. His secret really hadn't been a secret for more than a year, if it ever really had been. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, Bates, Alfred all knew. If they knew he was sure they weren't the only ones. He was concerned when he first became friends with Jimmy that the others would suspect some hidden reason and he could see the strange looks they got on occasion. He had always been careful because of that.

But now there truly was something to hide. He had no power over people knowing about him, but knowing and actually having to confront it head on was completely different. If they ever caught them, there would be no hope for either of them. His kissing Jimmy that night was eventually dismissed by others as an indiscretion, something he wasn't able to control, but anything else would mean dismissal and likely jail for them both. As much as he wanted Jimmy with him every night, he knew that was a risk he wouldn't let him take.

Jimmy was more impatient. He told Thomas that an hour here or there wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't what they deserved.

One evening a few weeks after their first night they lay in bed, Jimmy's head was on Thomas's chest while his fingers teased the hair above his cock. Despite the playfulness, Jimmy seemed restless and on edge. He had been away all day and Thomas didn't know why. When he asked him before he went he had just said he would tell him later. Thomas didn't like that, but he knew he had to trust him.

"Do you believe in love at first sight, Jimmy?"

"I don't know, I've never really thought about it. But I've always felt despite everything I was destined to find someone. I found you, didn't I? I can't think that was just chance."

"Well I believe in it. The French call it _un coup de foudre_ , a bolt of lightning. That's exactly what I felt when I first saw you in the servants' hall."

"Where do you get these things? French?"

"I read. Something other than mysteries of course."

Jimmy pulled hard on his hair, feeling him wince.

"Not a good idea to insult me when my hand is where it is."

He thought for a minute.

"You realise this is only the third time we've been able be together."

"I told you why. "

"Our future is with one another, not just a furtive kiss and a cautious touch, making love in the middle of the night with the threat of exposure hanging over is. We need to be free of all that."

"That's never going to happen at Downton."

"What if we weren't here."

"It wouldn't matter what house we were working in Jimmy."

"I had a lot of time to think today. What if we did something else?"

Thomas was going to ask where had been, but decided to let him leave it until he was ready.

"Jimmy, we're servants. I can't see either of us on a farm or in a factory. Being in service is all we're trained for."

"How about a shop of some sort. We could do that."

"But we don't know anything about running a shop either. You just can't find an empty building, throw open the doors and call it a shop."

Jimmy sat up and looked at him.

"I know that. Stop treating me like a child."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. All I'm saying is that it's not that simple."

"My father worked for a tobacconist, not just as a shop assistant, but doing the ordering and the accounts. They used to let me work in the shop, tidying up for a few pennies. I would watch what he did and because I was curious he would explain some of it. So I remember a little about shops and how they work, but it was a long time ago and you're right, not nearly enough. It's a start, though. We could find someone who was selling up and who, for the right price, would stay on to teach us. Neither of us is stupid. We could learn. And better yet, we would be away from here, able to live our lives on our own terms."

"It's a wonderful dream, but only a dream. Don't you see, even if we could do that it would take more money than either of us has."

"I have money."

"Yes, but a tenner doesn't help."

"How about thirty thousand? Would that be enough?"

"Pounds?"

"No, potatoes. Yes, pounds you fool."

Thomas looked at him as if he had gone mad.

"Where would you get thirty thousand pounds?"

"It's a long story."

"I think you better take the time to tell it."

"My mother's family had money. I never knew that because she never talked about it or much about her family at all. I learned during the war that when my mother married, my grandfather said she had married beneath her and he would make sure she found out what that meant. He never spoke to her again. I never met him, but from the little she said he was a miserable old bastard.

"When he died everything went to her older brother, who I guess wasn't much better. He had only one son, David, who was a few years older than me."

"I thought you said you had no family. You've never mentioned him."

"No close family. I only met David for the first time during the war. After his father died, he contacted my mother and she asked me to see him. We met one night at a hotel in London and he told me a lot about the family and what had happened, but he never mentioned anything about money. Later he was badly injured at the Battle of the Somme and was in hospital and then in a home for several years. I visited a few times, but never seemed to be able to get away after I came to Downton. I tried to write regularly though and he, and later the nurses, would write back.

"He died three months ago, shortly after he turned thirty, never having left the home. Apparently he knew he was going to die, but he never told me. I only now received a letter that he left explaining a lot more that I didn't know. Apparently his father had tied up whatever money there was so he wasn't able to get to it until he reached thirty. He had the interest and what little his mother had left him, but that was all. He finally got the money, but too late for him to do anything with it. He just lay in that home and waited to die.

"A month or so back I got a letter from his solicitor. He had no other relatives and he had put me in his will. I thought there might be a few pounds that I would be able to put aside but when I went Birmingham today to hear the will read they almost had to pick me up off the floor."

"So that's why you weren't here today and why you got back late. You were being so mysterious about it. All you said was that it was for personal business. You don't know how difficult it's been for me not to know. I was beginning to think something was wrong."

"I was hoping to surprise you with the news and with something special, a gift, when I came back. I never thought it would be this."

"So why don't you just resign. That's a fortune."

"I'm going to and so are you. We could walk out of here tomorrow and never look back, but we both know we can't sit around doing nothing. It's a lot of money, but it would have to last us the rest of our lives. We can't know what the future will bring. What happened to my mother and to David taught me that. I never want us to be poor or regret anything."

He returned to his original question.

"So would thirty thousand pounds be enough?"

Thomas thought about the thirty-five pounds a year he earned. True, he didn't have to buy food or pay for lodging, but still.

"More than enough. And you would do that with your money?"

"All of it if I had to, without question. I want it to be our money."

"A shop, though. I don't know. There are a lot of ifs."

"Since when has Thomas Barrow not been up for a challenge."

"Since he realised he tends to fuck up each one."

"Yes, it might be risky. No matter how impatient I've been, I know what you've said is right. We can't rush into anything. The money makes that too easy, but we have to plan and wait for the right opportunity, something we both agree on. I know it will come along and I just feel it's going to happen sooner than later. We won't fuck this up. We can't as long as we're together. And that's what this is all about."

He lay back down and Thomas wrapped his arm around him, holding him close. Thomas still wasn't sure, but he knew that this time, with Jimmy at his side, he was willing to take one more chance. All those years of being alone, plotting and planning to get ahead, walking over anyone who got in his way hadn't taken him very far. He knew love was going to make the difference. He leaned over and kissed him.

"You're right. If you're with me, why not."

Epilogue

  
Thomas and Jimmy stood and watched as one of the east walls of Downton came down. It had been almost fifty years since they had left and in some respects, looking at the rubble, it felt like they had come to the end of the world. The current Earl, Matthew and Mary's son, couldn't afford the upkeep or taxes. There had been talk about it becoming a hotel or a school, that he might open it to the public, but none of that happened. In the end, he auctioned off the contents, sold the building, and moved his family into the dowager house. Downton Abbey was being demolished to make way for "Downton Grange", a high end housing development.

They had lost track of most of the people they knew from those days; they guessed that many if not all were dead. Jimmy used to hear from Alfred, usually a note at Christmas. They both went to his wedding. It wasn't to Ivy though. In one of his later letters he told Jimmy that, although he still wasn't sure he approved, he understood and he was glad Thomas made him happy. Everybody deserved to be happy. But Alfred too had died a few years ago.

Their lives after leaving Downton were mostly uneventful. As Jimmy had predicted, they found the right opportunity. The first few years had been difficult as they struggled to adapt to their new way of life. They had disagreements and there were times when they wondered if they had made a mistake, but that they had one another meant more than anything else. They almost had to close in the early years of the Depression, but managed to hold on, using some of their cash to keep it afloat. Thanks to Thomas's surprising expertise at managing their money, even after doing that they had more than they started with. During the war the shop suffered some damage from a bomb, but their home fared far worse and was destroyed. Later they expanded and opened another shop. Ups and downs that they weathered together. Now in their old age they couldn't imagine that they had ever been apart.

As they reached the car Thomas grabbed Jimmy's hand to stop him. He raised his cane and pointed it down the road.

"I understand there's a fair on today."

Jimmy smiled and put his arm around his waist.

"That might be fun."

~ End ~


End file.
